


This cancels out the hurt

by 5ftjewishcactus



Series: Unlove You Prompt Fills [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Kissing, Love, Love Confessions, No Sex, No Smut, Other, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), References to Pre-Fall Crowley, Sharing a Bed, The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5ftjewishcactus/pseuds/5ftjewishcactus
Summary: The bus ride back to London was a blur to Crowley. He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. After everything he’d been through, everything in those final days, his bones ached with all six thousand of his years. But he couldn’t sleep. Not yet. He had to make sure he and Aziraphale were safe.Taking Aziraphale to his flat after the apocalypse doesn't happen, Crowley finally lets his angel in completely.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Unlove You Prompt Fills [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1521779
Comments: 10
Kudos: 145
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	This cancels out the hurt

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Unlove You Prompt "This cancels out the hurt" Prompts from [un-love-you](https://un-love-you.livejournal.com/) on livejournal. 
> 
> I know I've already written a version of "The Night At Crowley's Flat" and I'm already writing another version because there's just so many things that could happen that night that we didn't see. I also wanted to play with aspects of what the swap would mean for them.

The bus ride back to London was a blur to Crowley. He wanted to sleep. He needed to sleep. After everything he’d been through, everything in those final days, his bones ached with all six thousand of his years. But he couldn’t sleep. Not yet. He had to make sure he and Aziraphale were safe. The angel sat next to him, holding his hand and it was the only thing keeping Crowley awake and keeping the bus headed to London. 

The bus dropped them outside Crowley’s building. He led Aziraphale upstairs and stood as the angel looked around the flat. He’d never actually brought Aziraphale to his flat before. They’d always met at the bookshop. It was easier that way. Safer. Given that Aziraphale had designed the bookshop to be a place for them. Two hundred years the bookshop had been there safe haven. Now, Crowley’s flat would have to suffice. At least for the night. 

Crowley opened his mouth to apologize for how bare his flat was but the words died on his tongue. There were so many things he could say. Should say. His angel was there. With him. And they were on their side. However long that lasted. Crowley took a breath he didn’t need and let his shoulders sag, letting go of whatever tension he’d still been holding onto from the day. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Oh, Crowley.”

In a blink, Aziraphale was in front of Crowley, pulling the demon into his arms. He made several sounds of protest and confusion, as strong arms enveloped him. And then he realized. In his exhaustion, he’d let his walls down. The ones holding back all the love he felt for Aziraphale. And Aziraphale had... did feel it. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale said, one hand moving to cradle the back of Crowley’s head. “Dearest. Darling. Beloved.”

Crowley made several more unintelligible sounds, unable to decide if he should apologize, confess his love with words, or just stand there. Eventually, the standing won out and all he managed to do was put his arms around Aziraphale in return. As he was held, Crowley let his eyes close and nuzzled into Aziraphale’s shoulder and neck. Warmth enveloped him, inside and out, and Crowley felt… content for the first time in years. Aziraphale’s love encased him, body and soul.

“This cancels out the hurt,” he whispered, lips pressed against Aziraphale’s neck. 

“It does, my love,” Aziraphale agreed, kissing the crown of Crowley’s head. 

“Come to bed with me, angel,” Crowley asked, moving away just enough that he could look at his angel. 

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale said, with a nod. 

Crowley smiled and slowly pulled out of the angel’s arms until only his fingers were in contact with Aziraphale’s body. Aziraphale’s hands moved from touching Crowley’s sides to his arms and down to his hands, holding slender fingers within his plump ones. He brought both hands up to his lips and kissed them each in turn. Crowley stepped backward and pulled Aziraphale with him. He led him back to the bedroom and the bed. He sank to sit on the end, eyes never leaving Aziraphale’s, as the angel smiled down at him. 

“Love,” Aziraphale said. “My love.”

“Yours,” Crowley replied. “Always yours.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, brushing loose strands away from his forehead as he leaned forward and kissed him. His hands continued to travel down to his neck and shoulders, fingers gliding down as Crowley’s singed and soot-covered clothes disappeared and were replaced by the soft, satin pyjamas Crowley kept in his closet. The demon didn’t question how Aziraphale knew about those and just relished in the comfort his angel was providing him. Crowley’s fingers brushed along Aziraphale’s round stomach, over the soft velvet of his waistcoat. His fingers teased at the gold chain of Aziraphale’s pocket watch. 

“Go on,” Aziraphale said, pressing another kiss to the top of Crowley’s head.

Crowley’s fingers moved along the sides of Aziraphale’s stomach, the angel’s clothes disappearing and being replaced by a matching pair of silk pyjamas, in baby blue instead of black. His jacket was replaced with a soft, velvet robe. Left the angel’s clothes folded on a chair in the corner of the room for morning. 

“Thank you, dearest.”

Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer, arms wrapping around his plump middle again. 

“Crowley, love, bunch up.”

The demon groaned, but let go of the angel and shifted back on the bed. Aziraphale moved to sit on the right side, making sure his robe was tucked around him carefully. Once he was seated, Crowley shifted over, resting his head against Aziraphale’s tummy again, arms clinging to his angel. He was held in return. 

“Sleep, my darling. I’ll keep watch over you.”

He should have argued, should have offered to stay awake, protect the angel. But he was so very tired. And it was only for a night. He mumbled good night and let his eyes close. Warmth and love enveloped him as he slept, shielding him from the outside world and even the dark corners of his mind. He dreamed of sunshine on an open field, where he and Aziraphale held a picnic with cakes and cookies and wine. 

When Crowley woke up the next morning, there was a moment where he felt disoriented. His dreams had been nice, lovely and soft and kind. It was… different. Not quite wrong but definitely not right for what he was used to. Before he could begin to panic, gentle fingers carded through his hair. 

“Shh… darling. It’s alright,” Aziraphale said, voice soft and fond.

“Angel.” Crowley smiled and stretched. He turned to lay so that he could look up at his angel. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am. I said I would protect you.”

Crowley smiled. “Sorry. Guess I thought maybe I’d fallen asleep on the bus and all this was just a dream.”

“Not a dream.”

With another stretch, Crowley sat up and glanced around the room. Nothing was different than how he’d left it when he’d fallen asleep. But something felt different. He looked at Aziraphale again and the angel’s blue eyes were watching him with love. Overcome with all that affection directed at him, Crowley surged forward and kissed him. His hands gently held the plump cheeks as Aziraphale’s soft lips moved against his own. 

“Good morning, dearest,” Aziraphale said.

“Morning. I could get used to this,” Crowley replied.

Aziraphale nodded. “I could too.”

Crowley kissed him again. “Breakfast? I’ll cook.”

“That would be lovely.”

Crowley eased himself off the bed, changed into a pair of clean clothes, and headed for the kitchen. He was in the process of heating the kettle for tea when Aziraphale came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s waist. He’d also dressed in his clothes again. Crowley hoped there’d be a later for them so he could see his angel in the pyjamas again.

“I was thinking about Agnes’ prophecy,” Aziraphale said, kissing Crowley’s cheek. “While you slept.”

“Oh?” Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s hold. 

“I think she might’ve meant it quite literally. ‘Choose your faces wisely.’ What if we swap our faces?”

Crowley considered it a moment. After everything they’d done, after everything he’d done, there was no way Hell was going to let him live. His mind thought to Ligur and the nothing that remained after. One death for another, seemed very Hell’s style. 

“They’re going to kill us. Make examples of us. ‘Crowley the traitor.’ I won’t be allowed to live after that.”

“No, neither will I. She specifically says ‘Fyre’ and she knew I would be reading the book at some point. The only fire that can truly harm me…”

“Hellfire. Which means Holy Water for me.”

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley put his hand on Aziraphale’s arm that was around his waist, fingers brushing against the soft skin and fine hairs there. 

“If we do this, things between us will never be the same. No more secrets.”

Aziraphale’s arms tightened around his waist. “I know. I have nothing to hide from you, Crowley. You’re the only person who knows me. Truly and deeply.”

Crowley thought a moment. There were things he hadn’t yet told Aziraphale. Things they would definitely need to discuss. But he wanted Aziraphale to know. The angel loved him. Crowley had wanted nothing more in all the world; this, them, together. Letting Aziraphale in, completely, he wouldn’t regret that.

“I want you to know everything. All of it. Even the things I’ve tried to forget myself.”

“After breakfast then.” Aziraphale kissed his cheek, just next to his snake tattoo. 

For breakfast, Crowley cooked them a Full English, with a side of pancakes for Aziraphale. 

“You really do spoil me, dear.” Aziraphale grinned as he took the offered plates. 

“Always spoil you, angel.”

They sat together and ate breakfast, conversation flowing easily as they let themselves enjoy a moment of calm. Crowley talked about his dreams, the ones he’d had the night before that he knew Aziraphale had given him. Told his angel that he wanted that, all of it. Aziraphale agreed, he wanted all of that for them. 

“I know a lot of the books are irreplaceable, but we can rebuild your collection. If you’d like,” Crowley said, holding Aziraphale’s hand.

“Oh, well… maybe its time I start a new one. Something else perhaps.” Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand in return. 

Crowley cleaned up the dishes after breakfast, while Aziraphale finished his tea in the living room. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called.

Crowley rushed into the living room. “Angel, what is it?”

Aziraphale was standing by the window, teacup in hand. “It’s the Bentley!”

Crowley came over to the window and looked out. Sure enough, sitting outside the building was the Bentley. She looked brand new, same as the day Crowley had bought her. 

“Adam must have reset reality,” he said.

“Do you think?” Aziraphale asked, tentatively.

Crowley nodded. “The bookshop has to be there.”

Aziraphale smiled hopefully. After a moment, his face fell. “Oh, I wish I could go see it. But… they might be waiting for me there.”

“Then we’ll swap and I’ll go. And if they don’t come for me there, we’ll meet at St. James.”

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley cupped his cheeks and kissed him. They moved over to the couch, Crowley pulling Aziraphale down to sit on his lap. 

“Before we swap, there’s something I have to tell you.” Crowley wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, an attempt to keep his nerves in check. Six thousand years he’d kept this secret from his angel. “In heaven, before…”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, hands coming up to cup Crowley’s face. “I know, my darling.”

“You what?” Crowley stared at Aziraphale, golden eyes blown huge. “You’ve never said. You’ve never even hinted that you knew. How do you know?”

“I never said because I never wanted you to think that was the only reason we were friends. Because it wasn’t. I started to suspect sometime around Mesopotamia. But it was in Rome, that my suspicions were confirmed.”

“Rome?” Crowley thought over their interactions in Rome and didn’t think he’d said or done anything to tip the angel off back then. 

“It was your hair. Well, the silver laurel wreath in your hair, amongst your red curls. It was like a memory, something I’d seen before. While we were out together, enjoying our oysters, it came to me. A silver circlet, made with silver wings resting atop ginger curls bathed in starlight.”

Crowley smiled. Most of his time in heaven, before his fall, had been spent creating stars. But there had been one day, or whatever counted as a day back then, when an angel, a young principality, had come to watch him work. One of the next star systems he’d made, he’d tried to replicate the angelic light coming from the lovely blond curls atop the angel’s head. And when he’d finished, he asked the angel for a name for the system. After a moment, the angel had replied with two words. Alpha Centauri. And maybe Crowley had hoped when asking Aziraphale to leave with him, that that name would remind Aziraphale and give him a reason to leave with him. 

“We can still go, one day, dearest. If you still want to,” Aziraphale said, thumb rubbing along Crowley’s cheek. “But I couldn’t leave with you then. Not when I wasn’t ready and I don’t ever want you to doubt my love for you. You, Crowley.”

Crowley nodded, leaning into Aziraphale’s touch and pressing a kiss to his palm. And there was that feeling again, enveloping him inside and out. Aziraphale’s love for him. Erasing any remaining hurt that might’ve remained, any doubt that Crowley might’ve been holding onto. Aziraphale knew him, loved him, and chose him. Him, the demon Crowley. A tear slid down his cheek and Aziraphale brushed it away. He leaned in and kissed Crowley again, a brief brush of lips. 

His forehead rested against Aziraphale’s and they sat like that a moment, simply breathing each other in. Whatever came next, they would face it together. Crowley had faith. In Aziraphale. In Agnes’ prophecy. In their love for each other. Nothing Heaven or Hell could ever try to do to them would ever cause them harm. Not when they had each other. 

**Author's Note:**

> I purposefully left it vague who Crowley was in Heaven. I personally like the headcanon that he's [Samael](https://sapphowasright.tumblr.com/post/186026134482/so-heres-my-two-cents-on-crowleys-pre-fall) though I do also like the Raphael headcanon, too. 
> 
> You can follow me on tumblr [@5ftjewishcactus](https://5ftjewishcactus.tumblr.com/) or on twitter on my main [@5ftjewishcactus](https://twitter.com/5ftjewishcatus) or on my sfw gen fandom [@2ambiace](https://twitter.com/2ambiace) or my dbh [@asexualhankcon](https://twitter.com/asexualhankcon).


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